


a study in remembrance and separation alike

by mirabilis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Universe, Gen, Growing Up, Introspection, Relationship Study, Unreliable Narrator, the proccess of brotherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirabilis/pseuds/mirabilis
Summary: “When we grow up, what’s the first thing yer gonna do?”You probably should’ve eaten your twin in the womb when you had the chance.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Comments: 20
Kudos: 60





	a study in remembrance and separation alike

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE TWINS!!!!
> 
> omgg... I tried pulling this small piece together.. i rlly hope you enjoy!!

When you’re born, there is no such thing as remembrance, if you can taste the moment you were birthed in purity, no matter your past entitled future, a boy, no, two boys can be destined together. If Atsumu is lucky, then his brother could’ve eaten him in the womb if he had the chance, but he doesn’t and that’s the end of that. If that’s the end, why does this story only begin? Tell me why, boy will never be king, and a severant, but a trusted knight by side in the paper throne with a paper castle and a fallen kingdom. But imagine, if destiny did kiss your knuckles when you were infant and bless you like ordinary monsters. 

But you like the way destiny tormented your chance at true beginnings? Who is there to believe in past lives, what were you, and who shall either of you become? And then what, can you cry when God chooses the worst path, and bang the walls of ground and let the cold floor swallow you whole. And when you get spit back up, and set back into the womb that’s your sign. Sign to be grateful that there was another person, who lived in the womb with you for nine long months, sucked all the nutrition, took up too much space, and breathed the same air. 

You probably should’ve eaten your twin in the womb when you had the chance. 

But in this world, the world you did not ask for, being a twin is a blessing. And who is to say that isn’t? To have a boy, sit like a puppet, mimicking your movements, your appearances, experiences. They tell you to be grateful, adorned in rich soft cheeks finchable. Rosy, and immersed like gold, and silver, two twins raised in unison.

“Hey Samu, stop touching my stuff.” Their childhood rivalry, disaster begins at an early age. In a three bed-room modern house on the outskirts of Hyogo, where if you caught the bus early enough you might make it on time to the fish markets, or be able to smell the lush scent of spring, or summer and then your nose might pinken in winter time. 

Atsumu is older, in truth, this is not revealed to him until years later to save them the arguing that already occurs. They failed though. Arguing is a way of life, a lifestyle not a choice. It’s like breathing, except you are forced to release the toy that you never agreed to give to your brother. Atsumu also sucks, he’s older by a minute (or so they thought when it was soon revealed that it's two minutes apart and oh the difference it would make and travel to Atsumu’s big head). 

“Hey Tsumu, stop bein’ so annoyin’” He mocks. 

Who will win this time, in which five year’s thick and dirty hands mold into Athen’s war and scathe like scissors, can you walk with scissors for hands? And cut down your enemies for the years to come? 

*

There are other sports, before you first fall in love. It actually begins with Atsumu and Osamu playing basketball, when they’re in primary school playfully dribbling the ball to their father nudging them towards an athletic career like youth had a hand in fate, who crossed its arm and disagreed and therefore both sports were denied at a young age. But can both remember, a boy, who was a stranger, but so familiar probably because he was tethered unknowingly to the twins, a sport they will grow to love, and kill for.  _ Aran Ojiro.  _ But do not fret, there will be more to come. 

“Set for me.” Demands will be abrasive, bitten and chewed until fulfilled but do not fret, obligation is fortition in order to succeed and the years to come will fly. 

So who does this story begin with, which brother builds, no breaks Rome in a day? Is it Miya Atsumu, an asshole with a handsome face according to the rest of the world who dares not to tread in the shadows. Because stigma can take the worst turn, and left and right questions are asked:  _ Can you feel what your brother is feeling? What’s he thinking right now?  _

If curiosity teaches you to ask questions, how do you answer a hundred a day, and will curiosity pay it forward. Or is it actually Miya Osamu, who may tread in his shadows when people in middle school ask for his brother. Is it bothersome, for after while it’s all the same. 

From then on, what is it that you do remember? Is it the amount of times people mix you up, or call you interchangeable names that no longer become names but a mere label stuck to your forehead and blindsided. When people call ‘Miya’ do both heads turn, like a whirlpool, two individuals merged at birth, do you believe that they become one? 

“You should set me more often.” 

“If you need to, tip away from the blockers.” 

“Faster Samu, yer too slow.” 

And the crescendo, signaling the final blow may be delivered, when it’s only in middle school and two people married to the same homage can call home, a womb that started the destruction of the universe. “Hit better.” 

But that’s only the tipping point, because there’s this unperpetual expectation that two brothers on the same court, desperate for the same desire to hold and the gratification to fill their lungs, to actually be able to properly work together. You should be able to be unstoppable together, a connection. Yes, it’s there perhaps it will click one day, when they’re old and reminiscing the way separation leans a tender hand towards devotion and parting in such sweet sadness. 

Stop talking. You know what? Just stop thinking, and maybe a sync will rush up to the lungs of two fourteen year old boys. Can you feel it? The pressure, does it hurt yet?

*

Marvel in the longing of how it feels to be empty, you hate your twin, you should’ve eaten in the womb, that yearn still lingers. You grow, side by side, despise every moment having to stare at his face outside of volleyball. Is there growth that peaks in high school, when you choose to be different and dye each other’s hair in your first year, on a dare by another teammate. Ah, here’s the catch, is there a difference in believing that there’s no escape in constantly being surrounded by the solar system in a large hole of darkness and it's division that becomes your twin. 

“What color?” Atsumu asks, and Osamu cracks a smile, it’s okay to be different then maybe people will stop mistaking you for your brother. 

“Blonde.” 

Can you distinguish the hidden details between two people who cried for the first half of their life to be individual souls, two sets of eggs. But identicality is beautiful in the way monstrous embers ghost your arms and legs to set fire to a storm. A storm is headed your way, take cover. 

*

If there are is no need for memories, then what is the point of remembrance, if in the end, when you lose, and learn to forget mistakes, and the last play that wil rewind like a broken tape in your mind for days, for weeks, for the rest of your life what then? Do you shake your fists to sky and demand for a refund, if you ask nicely you may be able to get one for that brother you have. In high school, you’re desirable, attractive, people will kiss your kiss and bend backwards to support you. The whole world will become a step-ladder to your reverent victory. But is there one person you want the support of, to carry their back for miles to go before you can truly taste triumph. You can grow up, and ask yourself, where will you go, how will you split your body and find a boy you’ve been forced to know your whole life. 

“You know, Samu.” Osamu will start, post-graduation, tears have already fallen numerous times, it’s understandable to cry once more. Cry for an unknown future that it is certain for one twin. One twin, two paths, one womb and one fight. “If we weren’t twins, I would fuckin’ hate yer guts.” 

Atsumu is appalled, even offended, and laughs, pushing his fingers past his forehead, blonde bleached curls, the roots beginning to show. Like the past, even if there is no need for trivial things (like memories). “Yer an ass, you know that?” 

“Grow up.” 

“No you.” 

*

And so, there are two brothers, born unfortunately under the same alignment with millions of stars that connect them, people, experiences, bruises, mistakes, thrown punches and pronounces declarations of happiness. Are you truly happy, brother? 

“When we grow up, what’s the first thing yer gonna do?” 

Happiness is fruitful, a mere mount of delusion. Step on it and see what happens. Maybe one day, you will taste triumph, and use that triumph to your advantage when you finally find pleasure in playing volleyball together. Because volleyball brought you together. 

And Osamu thinks,  _ what will they become when they grow up?  _ Guided by separation, white lines will appear. You need memories, if there is such a thing as remembrance. 

**Author's Note:**

> okay. so wtf is this.. if you took the chance to read this fic. it's a love letter. perhaps the miya twins. or to my own twin sister who i despise with inner soul but have a remote connection to. I wanted to peel the experience of being in one's shadow, how to truly walk in the light and especially when it comes to the game of volleyball. i hope i succeeded lol. 
> 
> if you did enjoy this, drop a comment or a kudos! those really do make my day!! 
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/atsuhinass__) if you would like! i love meeting new homies! until then!


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